Page 172 of Nash Falls

She nodded. “You want tea?”

“I…” Nash looked up and down the hall. The last thing he wanted was to waste time with tea. But if he refused, and Angie got upset and made a ruckus? He had met her once before when he and Judith had been invited to dinner. Barton had mentioned that little things could set Angie off, and it would take a great deal of time and effort to calm her down.

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

She smiled and opened her door more.

While Angie fiddled with tea cups, he sent a message to Agent Morris and explained what had just happened.

Judith is in great danger. You have to get her out of there. Now!

When he didn’t get a response, Nash grew agitated.

Angie brought over his tea and cookie. He thanked her and drank it, and ate the cookie as fast as he could, even though it was stale and bitter.

“Tars,” she said, pointing at the ceiling littered with glittery stars. “Bootiful.”

“Yeah, they are,” he said, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. Then he remembered something that Rhett had done when Barton couldn’t get Angie to go to sleep when he and Judith had gone there for dinner. He said, “Night-night-night, Angie. Time to go night-night-night.”

She smiled, nodded, got into her bed, and closed her eyes. “Night-night-night-night,” she said.

Nash was out the door a second later. His Porsche was parkedin the motor court. He looked back up at the dark façade of the house. This was a big risk, but he had no other options. He manually opened the gate, put the car in neutral, pushed it out past the gates, and closed them. Then he hopped in when he hit a downward slope, started the engine, and drove as fast as he could to his old home.

He had lost Maggie. He could not lose Judith.

CHAPTER

84

FORTY MINUTES PASSED, AND ITseemed like forty years, until Nash reached his old neighborhood. He had no way to get through the security gate, so he parked down the street, nimbly hopped the fence, and made his way in the darkness to his old home. He got in through the same back door into the laundry room that Maggie’s kidnappers had forced. The mingled smells of dirty clothes, detergent, and bleach hit him. The alarm was not set, though he remembered the passcode if it had been.

He took the steps two at a time and found Judith lying in bed. But this new version of Judith did not sleep nearly as soundly as the old version.

She called out from the darkness, “Who’s there!”

He could see her shadowy image as she sat up in bed. It was only now that he realized he needed to tell her something.

“Mrs. Nash, I was here earlier, with Rhett Temple.” He drew closer.

“What do you want?” she said, drawing up the sheet to cover her, as she stared at him.

“You were right. Your husband was framed.”

The sheet came down a bit. “Who are you?”

“I… I work with the FBI.”

“But I thought you were working with Rhett.” She paused. “Wait, you think—”

“Rhett let it slip to some dangerous people that you believe that your husband is innocent. These people do not want you raising that concern with the police.”

“So they plan on killing me?” She said this so lucidly that Nashnearly forgot that his wife had handled with dignity and aplomb many crises in her life, including the tragic and untimely deaths of her parents in an accident. But the twin tragedies of Maggie and him had simply been too much for her.

“Yes. I’m here to get you to safety.”

“Do I have time to dress and collect a few things?”

“Please hurry.”